The Lunar Cycle
by RiaKitsuneYoukai
Summary: Pain's not an easy thing to deal with... but heat sometimes helps. -Very mild Zutara-


"What are you doing here?" It's less of a question and more of a sharp jab in his general direction, but Zuko no longer cringes so much at these -- he's used to it. She loves reminding him of how much she distrusts him. But this time her words seem genuinely present-tense, because she's really wondering what the hell he's doing bothering her when his every instinct should have told him to stay away. The boy stops in the doorway, questioning it himself; he had overheard both other boys in the small group of children (why pretend they were anything else?) discussing the young woman's long absence. Sokka, the elder, had told the more naive Avatar to 'keep out of her way for a good long time, until she decides she wants to be around them'. The boy had looked to his earthbending teacher, a gruff little girl with a pretty pale face, who simply waved a hand and told him to listen to the advice. Her exact words, as Zuko remembered them, were, "It's girl stuff, Twinkles. Don't worry about it."

"I was wo--"

The woman cuts him off, her voice just as shattered glass-sharp as before, "Don't you dare say you were worried about me." He sighs, quietly, knowing she'll make another remark if she hears him, and takes a few cautious steps into the room. The young woman doesn't move, but Zuko has no doubt her eyes could practically fire daggers should she look at him again. He glances her over, and wonders why her brother would warn everyone to stay clear of her -- the waterbender is obviously aching, rolled into a ball of legs and tightly curled arms on the bed in the corner of the small room. It's much like the room he has, on the other side of the building, only this one has more windows. A small blanket lies over her feet, but is otherwise discarded. Her hair is loose, and Zuko second-mindedly thinks about how troublesome that amount of hair must be to have; it's thick and wavy, and the ends hook on everything like little claws.

"Everyone else was worried about you, but they were too nervous to come and see if you were okay. Better?" She grunts, the only sutiable answer he'll probably get out of her. He shifts from foot to foot, trying to find a way to ask her what's wrong without becoming the target for a verbal shooting. Rubbing the back of his neck, he slowly queries, "So... what's up?"

"The sky," she says, and she acts as though she's talking to someone immensely stupid. Zuko frowns.

"No, I mean--"

"I know. You want to know why I'm not outside with everyone else."

"...yeah." He mumbles out when she doesn't continue. She lifts an arm over her eyes and shifts against the matress, but her legs stay in close to herself. "I, umm... brought you some rice." He presents the bowl to her, though standing too far away for her to reach it; she makes no response to his movement. Slightly discouraged, the former prince takes a few steps towards her and kneels to place the food by her bed. Then, as though in the presence of royalty, he backs away.

"I'm sick," she tells him, her mouth moving quickly and closing with almost a snap. His eyebrows move down and he frowns almost on reflex. "I don't feel like eating."

"I didn't make it, if that's what you're worrying about."

"I'm not worrying, stupid, I'm just not hungry." It sounds as though she is smothering a small bomb of anger, and Zuko knows that the slightest bit of incorrect speech will set it off in his direction. Unable to think of something useful to say, he stands in place quietly, his arms by his sides, one of them kneeding the fabric of his shirt. Glancing her over once again, he notices her face squint together, and her lips mouth something. Concerned, he speaks in a low voice.

"Anything I can do?" He's surprised hearing his own voice, seriously worried about the well-being of this girl who has been his enemy for so long (and perhaps still). She doesn't move at all; her fingers don't even twitch, but she's silent for a few moments.

"If you're looking for a way to get me to trust you, Zuko," she says, her eyes free into the light, but looking at the stone ceiling, "this isn't it."

"I'm not. I mean, I am, but-- I wasn't looking for this to... get you to trust me now-- you're just sick, so I--" he struggles, trying to explain, and she snickers at him, that same cruel version she's been using since he arrived. Strangly, she never looks at him when she laughs this way; Zuko has spent many moments wondering if it's all a show to hide something. His mouth shuts quickly, and he can feel the tips of his ears burning with embarrassment. Then she cringes again, and he's sure she's trying to conceil some great pain. "What hurts?" he asks, still wanting to help her. Zuko has always had an issue with people in pain. And people crying. Especially girls.

She doesn't answer.

"I'm not going away until you tell me."

"I'd rather fight you," she snaps, her eyes feirce. Zuko shrugs confidantly.

"You're the sick one. We can fight for as long as you want, but I'll still have an advantage."

"Shut up." She rolls away from him; her arms are crossed, but she frees one to grab the blanket by her feet and pull it over her hips. Zuko happens to notice a small, stained towel beneith her before the fabric covers her dark skin; he glances away for a moment to preserve her privacy -- something tells him it's related to the 'girl stuff' Toph had mentioned.

He continues to stare at her back, his muscles loose but ready, should she decide to take him up on the battle offer. Again she doesn't move, save for brushing a line of thick hair off her shoulder. Silence fills the room, a dull, dead hum peirce with echos from outside. A particularly large bang makes Zuko jump, but by Katara's reaction he figures there's nothing to worry about -- it was likely a spur of bending. She waits until the sound has completely faded, then sighs.

"My guts hurt. Happy?"

He nods lightly. He is happier, having some sort of response from the girl. But the fact that she is hurting still bothers him; the firebender fingers his shirt again. "Did you... eat some bad food or something?"

"...no."

"Did you catch a flu? No one else is sick, s--"

"It's my lunar cycle, stupid, now go away." Her voice is hard and quick, as if she is embarrassed to say it, and the side of her tilted face is a curious shade of mahogany. Zuko mumbles a short, "ah," but doesn't move. He doesn't know what a 'lunar cycle' is, but it makes him think of the phases of the moon, so Zuko tries to put these small bits of information together -- moon phases, gut pains, and 'girl stuff'. He comes up blank.

The silence is long again, and Katara shifts slowly from the waist; one arm falls to her side as she looks at him. "Why are you still here?"

The prince tries to speak, but realizes he doesn't know what to say. Instead he watches the girl's expressions change from anger to suspicion to some sort of bitter humor. With half a smile on her face (a mean smile, but a smile no less), she says, "You don't know what that is, do you?"

He doesn't respond. But knowing that this somehow relates to girls, Zuko thinks of two things: one, that he wishes he could have learned a little more from his mother before she dissappeared, and two, that he hadn't resisted running from the room every time his uncle tried to give him 'a man's talk'.

She continues smirking at him, waiting for an answer. The prince's face is red when he finally mumbles, "I don't have to ask, do I?"

She turns her whole body to face him and props her chin in her palm, her smile reaching as far as it can go. She nods. Sighing, Zuko glances out the window, and for a moment considers jumping out one of them. He takes a short breath and bursts out, "What'salunercycle?"

Katara stares at him, still smiling, a creepy statue of flesh. His eyes survey the entire room, trying to avoid her gaze, but always coming back to it, as if his eyes are magnatized to hers. Finally he gives in to the pull, and stares her stright in the face. Her smile fades and the girl flops back onto her back, cringing slightly. "It's a time of month when a girl has to stay fairly still 'cause otherwise she'll bleed all over the place."

"That's..." the words die in his throat (though Zuko's not sure what those words were going to be anyway). He scratches his neck against the awkward mental picture.

"And it really hurts her insides. The end."

Their long silence returns, like a far-flying boomerang ready to be thrown again. Zuko fiddles with the hem of his tunic a bit more, then switches to bending back his fingers, one by one, listening for cracks. His eyes are still returning to the girl's relaxed form, his mind wandering. He pauses suddenly and asks, "Where's your waterskin?"

She glares at him. "What, are you going to take away my bending? Sorry to break it to you, but blood is a liquid too." Her eyes are weak for a moment, but she holds his stare as Zuko's head shakes.

"I'm not taking it away. I just had an idea. Can I borrow your waterskin?"

She sighs and after a final suspicious glance at him pulls the flask from her side; it had been by her the whole time. Zuko wonders why she didn't attack him, but reasons that she was too tired to bother. Or perhaps she was learning that he wasn't going to backstab her at any given moment. In any case, she does not flinch when he steps forward and takes the skin, but her eyes are locked on his, and they seem to quiver for a moment when his fingers pass over hers. He peers inside the dark bottle, then raises it to his ear to hear how full it is. Katara watches him, and Zuko is sure she smothered a exasperated sentence, but he keeps at his business; the prince closes the top of the skin tightly, then holds it just above his palm and lights a small flame. The young woman shifts quickly, backing away slightly and sitting up, her hands raised and ready to bend the contents at him; Zuko glances at her meaningfully, and reminds her that he's not trying to hurt anyone.

The waterskin begins making a strange bubbling noise, and he douses his handflame to feel the temperature of the container. Satasfied, he holds it out for her. Katara watches, curious, and takes hold of the flask carefully.

"Put it on your stomach. It'll help."

She stares at it for a long time, then looks towards him, but the firebender is already gone, the edge of his boot dissappearing around the corner of the door.

-- -- -- --

He has to cover above his eyes to see past the glare of the setting sun when she comes to see him, towering above, stray strands of her hair catching the light brilliantly. He cannot see her face, only the movement of her eyelashes, and they're blinking rapidly. He puts down the stone and releases the blade he had been sharpening, momentarily remembering how amazed and slightly furious the girl's brother had been when he found out where Zuko had been. The waterbender shifts her weight back and forth slowly, as if studying his reaction, then quietly says, "Thank you."

Warmth, the kind not brought from the flaming orb above them, floods through the firebender's face, and he smiles at her. She holds the waterskin out for him, and he grips it with both hands. The heat is all gone; only the temperature from her skin remains, and it is fairly cool on his hot and sore fingers. She stands beside him for a long moment before he replies, "Anytime."

"Meaning now, as well?"

He glances towards her, confused, and she waves a finger slightly. Her voice is quiet, and somehow... shy: "Can... you heat it up again?"

Feeling a bit foolish (why else would she give the skin back to him -- it's hers), he says, "No problem," and the water bubbles above his hands. When he passes it back to her, she nods, clutching it against her torso softly, and the movement shows that she does not need his help, nor the heat, but is happy for it.

For now, that's enough.

* * *

**Author's Notes:**

Something I thought up when I was having cramp issues. Trust me, hot waterbottles are _amazing_ when you're hurting from your lunar cycle.  
This was also slightly inspired by a picture I found on Deviantart where Zuko was using his firebending to keep Katara warm during her lunar cycle -- like this, only minus the waterbottle. It was pretty cute. Thanks to Tempest In Blue for finding it for me -- it's the peice entitled 'Moon Sickness' by Drisela.

Katara's not as... angry than I had originally planned. But now that I'm thinking about it, PMS makes you weird. So if Katara is angry and short-tempered every day, logically during her cycle she'll be a little less so, and perhaps more... sobby. Or something.


End file.
